{ This was why she kept insisting she needed a thigh holster, and why she hated skirts. Which ever man decided women needed them to look fancy; Christie hated him. Her silver knife glinted as it tumbled from the waistband of her skirt and tumbled to the ground.
       Stupid debate team meant dressing fancy to school, and ultimately the weak black skirt Christie wore dropped the knife. Her eye shot from the other person in the hallway, eyebrows shooting up as if to say 'you really gonna do something'}
{ Michael's eyebrows raised, the sharp edged weapon clanging as it hit the ground. He shrugged loosely once he realized her eyes were on him }
"Should I ask why?"












